


A Certain Pull//Victor Zsasz

by amongthestars89



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Assassins & Hitmen, Death, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, Everyone in Gotham is a murderer but we knew that, F/M, Falling In Love, Family Feuds, Flirting, Flirty Victor Zsasz, Heartbreak, Mob Bosses, Murder, Protective Victor Zsasz, Scars, Slow Burn, Victor Zsasz has feelings, Victor Zsasz's Tally Marks, cannon-divergent, victor zsasz - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:20:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27070369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amongthestars89/pseuds/amongthestars89
Summary: A book of the various encounters and mishaps you get into with the notorious Mr. Zsasz. ;)
Relationships: Jim Gordon/Barbara Kean, Jim Gordon/Leslie Thompkins, Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma, Selina Kyle/Bruce Wayne, Tabitha Galavan/Barbara Kean, Victor Zsasz/Reader
Comments: 8
Kudos: 50





	1. Welcome to Gotham

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, so just a quick tip to better enjoy this story--if you are reading on a laptop, and don't already have the extension, 'interactivefics,' I highly recommend getting it! It replaces Y/N with your actual name and generally makes things a lot more fun to read! If you choose to read this on your phone/mobile device, however, don't worry--I will be trying to use Y/N sparingly in this so you're all good if you don't wanna download the extension. Happy reading! :)

From the day you left home, you'd become somewhat of a drifter; hopping from one town to the next, carrying out the dirty work of those in power until you grew bored or your luck happened to run out. 

When you arrived in Gotham however, all that seemed to change. In the pursuit of your first job there, you'd found yourself drawn to a certain club, coming upon a man in need of your services almost instantly. He was clearly new to the crime world, visibly hesitant to tell you what he wanted done to his target, and for a moment you considered turning him down even if to just spare him his conscience, but when you heard his payment offer, you were sold. 

All the while he was stuttering his way through a lengthy backstory of which you didn't really need to know, it was when you allowed your eyes to wander elsewhere that you first spotted him. Dressed head to toe in black, and seemingly lacking any hair, he eyed you with a playful smirk from across the room. Stood near a table where old, gruff Italian men sat, gesticulating, and talking over one another, it was clear he was growing somewhat bored at his post. You furrowed your brows at him, a reluctant smile playing on your lips. 

Though you had certainly never seen anyone like him, you assumed by the way he was looking at you that he was not too far off from some of the other assassins whose advances you'd had to turn down numerous times before. There was no room to be getting involved with other people. Especially people like yourself. 

Your reason why had stayed the same from day one of your new career, the job comes first. Should there be a complication or awful happenstance that made someone you had a connection with a potential mark of yours, you weren't sure you'd be able to stick to that rule. Or worse, you'd discover you were. The question of whether you were a good person anymore had long since fled from your mind, but you still had your hard lines. Family was one of them. That was why you'd not seen yours since you left your hometown. Anything or anyone that presented the possibility of someone locating them and threatening their lives to manipulate you was to be avoided at all costs. 

Sure, it was a lonely way to go through life, but if it meant those you held dear were safe, you could live with it. 

"So, do you think you could...you know?" asked the uninitiated young man, snapping your attention away from the teasing stranger and the eternal trouble he presented to you.

"Kill him?" you said for him, wanting him to realize the gravity of what he was after. It was often your clients didn't – but you weren't one to lecture, as long as they didn't try to make you take the fall for their guilt. That was a feeling you knew far too well, anyway. You probably had enough to last a lifetime. 

"Yes, that – thank you," he stammered, searching in his coat for your agreed upon payment, having told him early on you took your money upfront. You were slightly surprised by his willingness to do so, the rule always being a sticking point for a majority of your clientele. Desperate times, you guessed. 

Doing a quick count of your cash, you sensed a familiar set of eyes on you once again as you pocketed the stack. Choosing to ignore him, you gave a minute nod of confirmation to the boy, but when you turned to leave, his voice, sounding oddly stable this time around posed the question, 

"How will I know when it's done?" 

Glancing over your shoulder at him, you provided him with the only assurance you knew to be true. 

"You'll know." 

His face now most certainly paler than snow at this point, the boy nodded with a shaky smile, promptly fleeing the scene afterwards. Sighing, you let the exchange slowly fade from your mind, it not being the first time something of the sort had happened. You tended to have a certain effect on people – one you had never gotten used to. Granted, it hadn't always been this way, but then again, that was quite a while ago now. Or at least it felt like it. 

Making your way over to the bar, and ordering your usual drink of choice, you had almost forgotten the man who'd been eyeing you when he seemingly appeared out of nowhere right next to you. 

"Wow, you sure know how to seal a deal – that guy was in and outta here in less than 5 minutes." began the smooth-voiced man with a quick glance at his watch and an amused click of his tongue. 

"You were counting?" you quipped, already pleasantly surprised by his ostensibly witty nature. Guys like him, as you'd guessed him to be previously, rarely had a sense of humor. And if they did it was never as hilarious as they believed it to be – the ghosts of many a stray cat you'd cared for over the years could attest to that. 

"I get bored." he admitted with a shrug. Honest too, good for him. 

"Oh? Your grandfather drag you out here or something?" you questioned, gesturing over to the aforementioned table of old-timers, taking a sip of your drink. The man chuckled, and you couldn't help but appreciate the sound – it'd been a while since you'd last made somebody laugh. 

"Trust me, if Don Falcone were my grandfather, I wouldn't be in this line of work right now." he told you, motioning to the bartender for a drink of his own. 

"He someone big here?" you inquired, never one to concern yourself with who was who in whichever city or town you happened to be passing through. 

"That's one word for him – he's only ruled the city for almost 30 odd years now." explained the man, and you could recognize the respect with which he spoke about him. "Ah, but history lesson aside – what brings you to Gotham?" 

"Oh, nothing in particular – just passing through." you expressed, used to questions like that. Though your answer never usually satisfied whichever local approached you, what the stranger said in response, while not unlike any other you'd ever heard prior, had an oddly sincere undertone to it. 

"Ha, good luck with that." though his words were followed by a laugh, you could tell as he went to return to his post, he was serious. 

"Wait, what's that supposed to mean?" you demanded, straightening up slightly from your slumped position with your back against the bar. That got him laughing once again, pivoting on his heel to rejoin you. Pausing briefly to think of what he wanted to say, he turned curiously serious as he spoke, 

"Gotham has a certain pull to it if you will – keeps people coming back. If you stay for too long, you may never leave." 

Unsure of whether this sudden air of gravitas was part of another joke, you chuckled, ultimately deciding to take it as one. 

"Aw yeah, alright – you got me. Almost made me think you were serious." you confessed, taking another swig of your drink. 

"I am, Y/N." he uttered, stoic expression unchanging. Doing your best to conceal your disturbance at him somehow knowing your name without telling him, you rolled your eyes. 

"Should I even ask?" you posed flatly, your cool annoyance returning that same devilish smile to his face as he considered your question a second. 

"If you want." he landed on at last, evidently enjoying this little game of yours. You let out a tired huff, disappointed how your desire for conversation had made you fall for such an age-old trick. 

"Well, who are you then? Or do I have to guess now?" you queried, to which he shook his head, 'no,' still smiling. 

"Victor Zsasz – welcome to Gotham." and with a final flirtatious wink, he left you, following the herd of older men, led by who you assumed to be this infamous 'Don Falcone,' out of the club. 

And though you wished you could say that was your first, and only meeting with the mysterious Mr. Zsasz, he may have been right about this town. 

A certain pull, indeed.


	2. Cipher

The next time you ran into Victor was sooner than you expected. 

You would say you were pleased to see him again, but he had just so happened to have caught you in the middle of a job. One you felt more compelled to complete than most others you took on, no less. 

Going down the dimly-lit cross-sections and sidewalks, it was not long after the sun had set that you arrived at your intended destination. A nightclub of the simple moniker, 'Cipher,' in the downtown area. 

Armed and ready, you were easily able to slip in through the back door, up the stairs to rooftop entrance, stopping at the empty gallery seating overlooking the rest of the room. Inside, it was just as you'd come to expect. Party lights flashed, drunk patrons danced and chatted—or shouted, rather, amongst themselves, and general debauchery took place. 

Regardless of your mild desire to partake in such practices, having made them a thing of the past for yourself long ago, you had to focus, you were here for a purpose. Ducking down so as to be out of view of those more alert than you may have realized, you let your hand rest on your gun, calmly lying in wait for your mark. 

Hardly a minute passed, however, when that same possible complication seemed to pop up out of nowhere, grinning wickedly as he realized how he'd managed to catch you off-guard. 

Standing on the dance floor below is Victor, staring up at you, only this time he's accompanied by two women dressed exclusively in leather with a similar flash of danger in their eyes. 

"The hell is he doing here?" you whispered to yourself, and you're sure he's trying to blow your cover when he answers loudly, having guessed what you said or somehow read your lips perfectly, 

"A guy can't have a little fun on the side?" 

Cursing softly as you feel a growing number of eyes on your location, you get on your hands and knees to crawl away from the edge of the balcony, hiding yourself behind the large, cushioned seats. What the hell was he trying to do? You surely couldn't have done anything to piss him off – you'd barely just met a few days ago. 

Soon you would get your chance to ask him these questions directly, Victor appearing at the exit door of the gallery not long after. 

"Jesus, what are you doing?! Get down, someone's gonna see you!" you hissed at him, doubly infuriated when he remained where he stood, looking down on you with an intense consideration. 

"We need to talk, Y/N – it'll only take a minute." he said at last, stepping back into the stairwell slightly so as to comply to your request he not expose your hiding spot. 

"Fine..." you agreed reluctantly, huffing in frustration before slowly getting to your feet to join him. "What is it?" 

"Damn, you always this grumpy on the job?" inquired Victor, not seeming entirely sold on the prospect that you ever were by his first impression of you. Shaking your head, you took a deep breath, remembering how your emotions had tended to get the better of you in the past – especially on hits of people you knew previously. 

"Only when it really matters to me." you let slip, and for a second there was a silence between the two of you, your eyes unmoving from one another's. If he was going to ask what exactly that meant to you, the time would be now. Yet, to your relief, he did not – being the first to break eye contact. Clearing his throat, he went on with what you assumed all he originally planned to say. 

"Don Falcone wants to speak to you—" 

"About what?" you cut him off, utterly befuddled as to why one of the most important persons in the city would want to speak to you. 

"I was getting to that – he wanted to know who you're working for – I told him that you were a bit of a drifter, but that I'd ask you directly, assassin to assassin, you know?" Victor explained, the last bit sounding unintentionally funny to you, though you didn't laugh out loud. 

"Well, you're right – I haven't worked for any one person or group in almost three years now. Last time I did..." you trailed off, mind on the verge of wandering, but you quickly snapped out of it, refusing to go there – especially not in front of a guy you barely knew. "They're far away from here though, so there's really no need to worry about them – or me, for that matter. You can tell your boss I'm not looking to cause any trouble." you assured him, meeting his intent gaze once again. 

"Good to hear – Mr. Falcone is the last person you want as an enemy. That, and he said to kill you if you were working for someone else so." Victor added, a seemingly relieved smile forming on his lips. Quirking an eyebrow at him, you chuckled, far too used to hearing phrases like that. You had come to learn there were usually no friendships or any sort of relationship for that matter, that lasted long in such a business. 

Opening your mouth to reply, it was then that you remembered why you were here when a scream could be heard faintly from outside. 

"Shit!" you swore, offering a terse apology when you nearly knocked your fellow assassin over en route down the steps and to the back door of the club. Pausing there briefly to make sure it was your guy, your adrenaline seemed to skyrocket when you saw his face. It'd been a long time. Practically kicking down the door, you watched as he and the girl whose wrist he had a hold on froze under the draw of your gun against them. "You – go." you instructed to the young woman, gesturing towards the path for her potential salvation with a minute nod of your head. 

"Thank you." she managed through shaky breathing, breaking free from the man's grasp and sprinting off in the direction of the street. If there was ever a way to spare someone the horror of seeing you put another down, you took it. You knew it didn't change much of anything about what you'd done, but to you, it was the somewhat decent thing to do. 

"You know it's rude to intrude on other's personal affairs." the older man piped up with a deep scowl. 

"So is attempted assault." you countered, keeping your gun trained on him. The man simply shrugged. 

"Alright then, if you're gonna kill me – go on ahead, dear." he mocked, sounding supremely cavalier about the whole prospect. Ignoring this, you cocked your gun and prepared to pull the trigger. "If I might ask one question before you do..." your mark asked just as you were about to pull it. With a sigh, you complied. 

"What?" you prompted. 

"Who should I tell you to give this to?" he remarked, bitter sarcasm in his voice as he showed you his middle finger. Suddenly, however, a shot rang out, flying over past your shoulder to knock the man's digit clean off; and incidentally causing you to shoot him in his shoulder. 

Lowering your weapon as he fell to the ground – you whirled around to see none other than Victor, his two partners stood at the ready behind him. 

"I don't need any help." was your instant response, prompting him to instruct his backup to wait there. 

"Of course not," affirmed the hitman, glancing briefly at the wounded man. "But it was more fun to do it together." he remarked, a soft laugh escaping his lips. 

"Yeah, well I'll give you a call next time I need someone to blow a guy's fingers off." you deadpanned, bringing a sly smirk to his mouth. 

"I look forward to it." Victor purred, slipping a tiny scrap of paper into your hand with another of those signature winks of his. "Ladies!" he called, both women filing out of the building in a flash. Exchanging passing acknowledgments with them, you watched as their peculiar leader walked away, turned the corner and disappeared from view. 

Your inspection of the slip of paper he'd given you, which turned up an arrangement of numbers with a stylized, 'V.Z.' at the bottom was cut short when an abrupt coughing fit reminded you yours and Victor's hits on the man hadn't been fatal. Anger and disdain rushed through your body as you approached the man who lay desperate and helpless on the ground. 

Just as desperate as he and his men had made you almost ten years ago. 

Pointing your gun down at his head, you were loathed to see the terror in his eyes as the possibility of death loomed over him. 

"Wait-wait, what do you want?! I can get you cash! Anything you want!" he begged, on the verge of breaking into sobs. This only served to enrage you more. 

"You and your men _took_ everything I already had – and there is no replacing it." you snapped through gritted teeth. It was at this spill of information that recognition finally came to him. 

"No, no – hold on, you're that girl from the—" 

"For the record, no one sent me." you spat, the third shot on him landing before he could finish, making him fall quiet forevermore. Tucking the firearm back into your holster, you inhaled and exhaled slowly – wiping a tear from the corner of your eye before stepping over his corpse and trudging off byway of where you were staying. 

Little did you know, however, Victor hadn't been the only one checking in on you that night... 


	3. Off–Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Just wanted to say thank you for reading and giving kudos!! It seriously means the world lmao; but anyways, sorry if this one's a little less exciting than the last two, I swear the story is gearing up soon though. Hope you like this one, anyways! There is a dash of sauciness in it too, so be warned ;)

It was on one of the few off days you allowed yourself that you found yourself thinking about Victor. 

Strolling through the park, watching dead leaves be swept up by the wind and carried off – some landing in the pond with the ducks and the turtles, or simply finding a new place on the ground. Having other hobbies, and interests were a great help in relieving stress, among other methods... 

While engaging in one of those, your imagination had happened to wander to him. You had yet to call him, but in that moment, the idea had certainly crossed your mind. Part of you wondered if it was right to think of a man you hardly knew in such a way but what were you to do? The life of an assassin was a lonely one. Or at least for you it was. 

Stopping at a nearby tree, you reached into your coat pocket, and upon fishing out the slip of paper, hesitated to pull out your phone as well. Your rule of thumb told you not to get involved – especially not with someone so deeply entrenched in one of the main family's in power, but you had to admit, he definitely made things more interesting. 

Shaking your head at the conflict, you decided you were in need of a drink. 

This plan was quickly sidetracked, however, by the faint sound of muffled crying capturing your attention. 

Locating the source of the cries in no time at all, you felt a pang of sympathy at the sight of a young girl sat on a bench not far from you, head in her hands. Dressed in a cheerleading uniform, you pondered what could cause her break down like that – in public, no less. Then it hit you. It could've been for variety of different reasons, but in your heart, it seemed, you knew exactly what it was. 

Frowning, you were faced with another decision – approach her or leave her be? Taken back momentarily to a similar point in your past, you stood there, the thoughts and feelings that you had long since buried under a thick layer of sarcasm and false apathy came bubbling to the surface. Breath catching in your throat, you were quick to look away, clinging desperately to this waning resolve. No, you couldn't break – not here, not anywhere, not ever. There was almost no telling who could be watching. 

You were used to that, of course, but even so – it irked you. Territorial 'coworkers,' could bring a hell of a lot of trouble with the wrong impression and the right misinformation. That was one of the downsides to refusing to align with one single family, you had come to learn. Regardless, you wouldn't trade your freedom for the world. It had become one of the very few things you still enjoyed about this life. 

Composing yourself once more, you couldn't help but smile when you noticed the girl was now being a held by a boy at her side, his hand rubbing soothing circles onto her shoulder. Maybe there hope for her, yet. You again retrieved Victor's number from your pocket, stalling briefly before dialing it at last. 

"You're go for Zsasz." he answered, immediately making you chuckle. 

"Hey, Victor – it's Y/N."

"Y/N, hey – what's up?" 

"Are you free right now? Kind of on an off-day." 

"I thought you'd never ask." 

Perhaps there was hope for you, as well...


	4. The Call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Way longer one for you guys today! Some cute domestic times with Victor, and a little tease for what's to come! Thanks for reading, and hope you like it ;)

The number of 'off-days,' you took seemed to only increase after the first one you spent with Victor. 

At first, it surprised you when this meet-up had not ended in the both of you ripping off each other's clothes in an alleyway, as most of your call-ins did, but as time went on, you came to be glad it hadn't. 

He had met you at the park, and from there, the two of you just started talking – about anything and everything. Your shared love of disco and muffins to your closest calls on the job. Additionally, there were never certain moments of silence where it felt to you as though he was about to ask you something gravely personal – and for that, you were grateful. 

The relief of not having to get into the more delicate sections of your past was one you hadn't felt in a while. Every time it seemed you had found someone worth talking to, someone who wasn't unbearably obnoxious about the things they'd done, or was only showing interest in you to get in your pants – they always went too far. They pushed too hard, demanded you open up and tell them all there was to know about you the second you showed minor interest. 

But not Victor. 

He didn't treat you like a challenge or a game to be won – you were, by your own judgment it seemed, actually interesting to him. So much so that at times it almost felt like you were real friends. You dared not share that aloud, of course, there was still no telling what could happen to ruin this period of peace between you. You supposed it helped that so far you had managed to keep your working lives mostly separate, meeting only when you were both free and refusing to accompany him on jobs or allowing him to join you on yours. 

It was tricky, you had to admit, but if that was the best way things worked for you to maintain at least some kind of relationship, you could deal with a few tiny inconveniences here and there. 

On a day you had anticipated to go like any other, however, the first of those aforementioned complications cropped up. 

"Ah, ah, no way, Victor – you are not using that box-cutter on the apples." you scolded as you reentered the kitchen of the small apartment you were renting; a picnic basket you intended to take to the park in hand. It'd become somewhat of a favorite spot of yours. 

"Why not? It works just as well as a regular knife!" Victor whined, pouting as he gestured to the short blade in his hand. You shook your head, laughing softly at his reaction. 

"Because I don't know what else you use that thing for – I'm 99% sure it's not sanitary." was your counter argument, to which the marksman rolled his eyes with a dramatic huff. Giving him a look that told him you knew he wasn't serious, Victor couldn't hold it together any longer, snickering to himself at his own joke. Joining him behind the counter, you took the liberty of grabbing him a kitchen knife but as you went to hand it to him, his phone rang. 

Though this was often a reoccurring happening during most of the time you spent together, he was almost always able to give quick and easy answers to whoever was on the line. Sometimes he said it was one of his 'Zsaszettes,' as you'd come to know them as (teasing him when you found out, of course) or someone else from work. You had never truly held the desire to ask – citing it as a part of your 'no work-talk,' precedent. 

When you first suggested it, you were mildly shocked when Victor seemed relieved, though you got the sense his was a similar reason to yours. It could be exhausting, and potentially dangerous sharing information to those who weren't directly involved in whatever petty drama or turf war the two main families were currently embroiled in. 

That was not to say you didn't overhear things, rumors, stories of what was going on. You knew the names of most of the major players. Falcone, Maroni, Fish Mooney, hell, even Jim Gordon. None of it really mattered to you, though. Rare was it you ever heard Victor's name in relation to any of it – and if you did, it was brief. You didn't talk to other assassins outside of him, as well – so you were only vaguely aware of his reputation – though it was a respected one, you gathered by what you did listen to. 

"Sorry, gotta take this." he told you, quickly excusing himself to your small balcony space, closing the sliding door behind him. You quirked an eyebrow at this – he'd never done that before. Every time he would get a call, he'd walk off a bit, sure, but he would always stay in the same room as you. For that, you had always gotten the impression that it was because he trusted you not to eavesdrop, him sometimes even making subtle jokes at whoever he was on the other line with to make you laugh. 

Slightly odd though it was, you shook your head, continuing on in your task. Still, you wondered who it could be – Don Falcone? Victor did seem to respect the man a great deal, but how often the two spoke over the phone, you couldn't be sure. From your admittedly short run of assisting mob bosses in various small jobs, it was infrequent that the head of the family thought of hired guns as little more than 'the help,' in whatever next, big play they were trying to make. Perhaps Falcone did things differently. 

One thing you did know for sure was that you did not miss those days – particularly for the fact you never had much say in the work you did take. Her judgements were not to be questioned, they were for the betterment of your skills. For the betterment of your life as a whole, she said. 'Your life,' was the keyword – you scoffed at the thought. Like it hadn't been stolen and modified to fit her image. Perfect little soldier. Just what the hell did she think—

"Ah!" you yelped, dropping the knife the second it nicked the tip of your pointer-finger. The distraction your angered thoughts had proved to be far too tempting for the ironically-named hand of fate to ignore, leaving you with a bleeding digit to tend to just as Victor returned from his call, looking concerned as you rushed to the sink. 

"What happened?" he questioned, joining you at your side as you ran cold water over the cut. 

"Nothing – just got distracted." you explained curtly, hoping to god he wouldn't ask what had caused you to slip up in the first place. Yet, as always, with Victor – there was no need. 

"Hm, well I hate to break it to you Y/N, but I don't think that's any way to keep things sanitary." he teased, cracking up when you swatted him playfully on the arm with your non-injured hand. 

"You can just shush." you said with a wry smile, going to clean up the tainted apples. 

"Oh, I can get that for you while you go clean up." Victor offered, grabbing the cutting board before you had the chance. Seeing no reason to deny his courtesy, you accepted, thanking him, and excusing yourself to the bathroom. 

There, after bandaging up the minor injury – though you tried to avoid it at all costs, you couldn't help but look in the mirror, catching a glimpse of your reflection as you were closing the medicine cabinet. You were beautiful, no doubt, 27 years old and still retaining the same youthful complexion you had when you were a teenager. Thinking back on that period of your life was strange now – the good mostly outweighing the bad, but there was always a sense of longing you were left with, an ache in your heart for what could've been... 

You quickly looked away. 

That was done now, though. They came after you, gave you no choice – they had to die. You only wished they hadn't inadvertently got you stuck with her. She was the true source of all your grief, all that had landed you on this endless path of hopping to and fro from one city to the next, leaving no trace, building no relationships, never truly existing there. The reason that after 8 years, you still had no idea where—

"Y/N?" came Victor's voice outside the door, cutting through all that had come to torment you at once. "You okay in there?" he asked, and you smiled, more grateful for his presence there than ever. 

"Yeah, I'm good–" you paused, swiftly wiping away the tears you had hardly noticed collecting on your cheeks, before going to face him. "–wanna order takeout?" you inquired preemptively, sure that when he saw your face, he was going to ask if you'd been crying. Though clear he'd sensed this, Victor said nothing, and nodded with a light smile. 

~

Later that night, you lay in bed – sleepless from the thoughts that drifted through your mind. Who was it really that Victor had been on the phone with? Should you have asked? Was your effort to keep work out of your relationship as feasible as you thought it was? 

The sudden, unexpected surge of memories were no help, either. Why then did she come to you? Right as Victor was talking to an unknown associate... 

No, he couldn't be – you covered your tracks well. There was no way she could've known you were here. 

Besides, Victor was an assassin, not a spy. 

In any other case, you'd have cut ties the second you felt things starting to get messy, but you didn't wanna do that this time. You actually liked Victor. You wanted to stay. No more running, no more hiding, you were tired of all that. If you had to fight the entire city just to prove you belonged, so be it. 

You only hoped Victor would be there to fight alongside you... 


	5. Bad Form

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!! I swear I haven’t forgotten/given up on this story – this chapter just took a little longer than expected lmao; lots of rewriting but I hope you like it!! Gets a little heavy but the truth is finally coming out so look forward to that! Thanks for reading, and again, hope you enjoy :) 
> 
> (unedited, expect minor updates soon lol)

In the days following the fateful call that had sparked your suspicions of Victor as a potential threat, you had allowed some distance to form between the two of you. While still almost fully-convinced he was not, in fact, apart of whatever you suspected was going on, you saw no need to involve him in it if he wasn't. 

That was just the way you did things. How you had always done them. 

One night as you arrived home, exhausted from chasing down your latest victim, you frowned sadly when his name flashed up on your phone, and you cursed under your breath when you had to actively resist the urge to pick it up. It hadn't been the first time he'd called you since your own self-induced period of silence, but you knew at some point, if you continued to ignore him, he might show up unexpectedly looking for answers. And what was worse was how badly you actually wanted to give them to him. 

You just couldn't – it was too painful, too risky – no matter how much you trusted him to keep it to himself. 

Having only enough energy to strip off your work clothes before flopping unceremoniously onto your bed, you fell asleep almost instantly, cuddling into your covers as soft moonlight streamed in through your closed window. Normally you liked to keep it open a crack for any stray cats that wanted to visit, but now was no time to be careless, if your guess of who it was potentially targeting you was right, there was little to no room for error. She was smart, she knew how to get in your head, she knew you. 

The old you, at least. The one she had wanted you to be from the moment you met. Disappointing her in that, should she really show, would be nothing new. And you were used to it, happy to, even. Whatever made her think you were just a lifeless puppet on a string, a piece of clay to be molded, someone who needed to be told how to be behave didn't matter. You would be ready. She could come barreling through your front door for all you—

The tiniest creak of one wooden floorboard had you up and armed in a second, standing tense with a gun in your hands pointed squarely in the direction of the intruder. With all light sources in the room off, their exact location was less than easy to pin down but not wanting to give up the upper hand to turn one of them on, you remained where you were. 

"Come out now, and I may allow you a swift death." you spat, swallowing the disgust you felt whenever you incidentally mimicked her way of speaking. An unfortunate lasting effect of your time together. When the unknown stranger did not immediately do as you asked, you tightened your grip on the gun, and said in as a demanding tone as possible, "I said come out!" 

However, there would be no need. 

"Woah–woah, Y/N, I come in peace." a low voice rang out, giving you pause. It was familiar for sure, but not in the way you had expected. 

"Victor?" you questioned, lowering your weapon when he stepped into the marginal amount of natural light at last, the sight of his recognizable features sending a wash of relief through your entire body. Then came infuriation. "What the hell were you thinking?! I could've shot you!" you scolded him, rushing to flick the main overhead light on. 

"Maybe," Victor allowed with a small laugh. "Can't say I would've minded you holding a gun in such...attire to be the last thing I ever saw." he admitted, always ready with a remarkably smooth line. Looking down, you were quickly reminded of the kind of 'attire,' he was referring to, or rather the lack thereof. 

"God damn it..." you swore, swiftly marching to over to the bathroom to retrieve your robe off the door hook. As you put it on, a scar on your lower-belly you had long-refused to even look at caught your eye. Running your fingers briefly across the length of it, you prayed he hadn't noticed, tying your robe's belt tight around your waist to conceal it. That was a story for another time – possibly never, if you could help it. 

"You alright, Y/N? I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable—" Victor had begun, stopping mid-sentence as you reentered the room. 

"You didn't." you answered curtly, trying your best not to crumble under his knowing stare. How he could tell when something was off so easily was mind-boggling, if not a tad annoying. "I just wasn't expecting you, is something wrong?" you deflected, deciding it was your safest bet if you were to help him maintain at least a fraction of his plausible deniability. 

"Not at all. I just called today, and you didn't answer – I thought something might've happened." he explained, his usual monotone softening slightly at the prospect. Composure faltering momentarily at this, you could feel your heart begin to ache as you tried to keep as nonchalant a façade on as possible. 

"So you decided to break into my apartment in the middle of the night?" you quipped with a glance at your alarm clock and a hand on your hip. Going silent at this for a solid minute, your laughter was difficult to contain as you watched Victor struggle to come up with an answer. 

"I... did it so if you were being held hostage I could get the drop on whoever was doing it!" was the reasoning Victor landed on, making you shake your head at the incensed look in his eye and at the frank absurdity of your current situation. 

"I'm sure." you countered with a playful roll of your eyes, and a smile. This of course, wouldn't last, fading as soon as you remembered what you had originally intended to do. There was no time for moments like these between you two – not now, at least. "There's no need to worry though – just had a long day is all. Didn't wanna sound cranky over the phone, you know?" you told him, averting your gaze when you spotted that same glint of doubt and concern in his own. 

"You wanna talk about it?" Victor offered, frustratingly gentle and inviting. So inviting you nearly gave in. 

"Not really..." you lied. 

"Y/N, I... You know you can tell me anything, right? I won't repeat it to anyone, I swear." he assured, raising his hand as if were about to testify in court. 

"Not even Falcone?" you let slip, cursing yourself internally the second it came out. Still, you were curious as to how he'd respond. 

"Falcone? What's he got to do with this?" posed Victor, appearing to be genuinely confused. Taking this as a good sign, you went on. 

"Last weekend when we were hanging out, and you got a call from someone – you went outside to take it." you recounted, growing uncertain in your point as his expression didn't change. "I just... I hadn't seen you do that before, and I guess I assumed the worst, I'm sorry – it was stupid now that I say it out loud—" 

"Oh my god, that?" Victor interjected, chuckling softly to himself. Raising an eyebrow at such a reaction did not feel like enough while you waited for him to compose himself once more. "Jeez, Y/N – it was for a radio contest! I was calling in all day to see if I could snag us tickets to this disco festival coming up – wanted to surprise you with them if I could. Missed the winning time by like 2 seconds, but we could totally just sneak in, anyway." he added casually at the end, a mischievous smirk flashing onto his face. 

About 99% sure you were about to explode from the overwhelming amount of relief this brought on, you took a deep breath in and then let it go. 

"Thank god." you breathed out, much to the continued puzzlement of Victor. 

"What? You think I was spying on you for him or something?" he asked, and you chuckled weakly, scratching the back of your neck. 

"Maybe – I don't know, not really for him per se..." you confessed, knowing at once the mistake you'd made. 

"Then who?" questioned Victor next, just as you expected he would. You grimaced, shaking your head once more. 

"I shouldn't say – I'd hate to get you mixed up with them if they do end up doing anything." you remarked, shoulders tensing up again. There was a fleeting lull of silence where you thought, just maybe he'd leave it at that, as he usually did, but no. Not this time. Not after all the unintended buildup you had given it. 

"Y/N, you know I've never pushed you to tell me about your past because in my opinion, it's none of my business," he started, "But if you think you're potentially in danger because of someone from it, please don't hold back. If there's anything I can do to help, I'm happy to do it." he capped off, looking you directly in the eye. 

You had never seen Victor so sincere, so warm, so open. He really meant every word, or so it appeared. 

"Okay, I'll tell you." you relinquished with a sigh, preparing yourself for the inevitable tears that were to follow as soon as you really got into it. "You might wanna sit down for this – I'll try to keep it short but you know..." 

"Take as much time as you need." said Victor, his efforts to make this as painless as possible not going unnoticed. Giving him a light smile, you pulled up two chairs with which to sit across from each other. Closing your eyes, you took a second to center yourself, and to figure out exactly where to start. Never before had you told this story to anyone else. Being forbidden from doing it for so long had not been a great help, either. 

But if there was any time to break that rule, it was now. 

"Eight years ago, I watched my husband die – right in front of me." you began, the sentence alone enough to make you feel like you were dreaming. A part of you wished you were. As taken aback as he could possibly be by this opening, Victor went to say something you guessed would be comforting, but you stopped him with a wave of your hand. If you were going to get through this, you had to keep moving, there could be time for that later. "It was a week after we'd been married. We were at a–supposedly–hidden safe house by the ocean. Early one morning, I had heard a knock at the door. When I went to go check it out, they rushed me before I could fire off a shot, and forced me to my knees. Right as the leader was about to shoot me, though – Dante popped out and hit him before he could. But then another one of them had already—" your words cutting off by the sound and choke of your own shaky sobs. Covering your mouth with your hand, the sting of hot, salty tears made their way onto your palm. 

"Y/N, do you—" 

"They refused to tell me who they did it for, but I had a pretty good idea at the time. Years later, I found out I'd been wrong, but at least now all of those bastards are dead." you uttered, anger and grief painting your face. Turning back to Victor as you caught your breath once more, you saw not only the sympathy in his eyes, but the understanding of what your last remark truly meant. 

"So that creep in the alleyway wasn't just some job, then. He helped kill your husband?" he questioned, and you nodded. 

"He wasn't the only one that managed to get away that day – but I did lose track of him for a while. There were other things keeping me from hunting him down right away, though." you alluded, more aware of a certain scar of yours than usual. 

"I see... So you know who really put them up to it, then?" queried Victor, obviously curious of what had become of them. Although by the way his shoulders tensed, you could tell that was not the only reason he wanted to know. 

"Yes," you paused, glancing at him one last time – just to be 100% sure he hadn't been duping you this whole time. From what you could tell, and from what you hoped, he was not. "You ever hear of a fixer who called herself The Lady?" 

"Yeah, sure – she runs a casino here in town. How do you two know each other?" Victor asked, confirming your suspicions of her nearby presence. So she was here. The question of how long had hardly crossed your mind when a scream down the hall of your apartment sent you practically flying to your feet. Scrambling to throw on your previously discarded clothes, you had a gun in hand faster than the wink of an eye. "That's her, I'm guessing?" 

"Get out of here, Victor. There's no reason you have to get involved." you gave him an easy way out, standing at the ready facing the door. 

"Well, I want to – that a good enough reason?" he countered, prompting you to turn to respond when the ruckus from outside ceased abruptly all at once. 

Slowly approaching the door, Victor following suit, you were cautious in opening it, turning the knob carefully to reveal a disturbingly familiar-looking corpse laying splayed out in the corridor. To either side of you, there were frightened and curious neighbors poking their heads out to see what the fuss was all about. 

"Hey, that's the guy from the alley!" Victor pointed out when he saw him. Peering down at the lifeless body, you were just about ready to bolt for the window when you noticed something in the hand that was one finger short thanks to Victor. "What is it?" he asked as you unfolded a crumpled piece of paper. On it were two frighteningly familiar words, written in similarly harrowing handwriting, 

'Bad form' 

"A death wish." 


	6. Care

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wowie, hello!! It's been a bit since I updated, I know (sorry, I have wayyy too many hyper-fixations currently lmao) hope you like this chapter though! Semi-smut warning towards the end lol — it's honestly nothing compared to what I have in store next but wanted to give you a heads up anyway! Happy new year, everyone! :)
> 
> (unedited — will do touchups later)

Slamming the door of your apartment shut, you took no time to explain what you meant to Victor as you rushed to arm yourself accordingly.

"So you think The Lady did this?" posed your fellow assassin casually, arms crossed over his chest as he watched you hurry about.

"I know she did." you insisted with a cock of an additional pistol, tucking it in your other waist-holster. "The note in that lowlife's hand said something she always used to say to me – plus it was in her handwriting. She's clearly trying to fuck with my head." you solidified, stopping when in your search for extra bullets, you came upon a small, black-velvet box you'd forgotten you had stowed in the drawer of the nightstand near your bed. Fingers ghosting over the familiar softness of the old fabric, before relocating it to your pocket, the anger in you stalled momentarily before being quickly reinvigorated by Victor's next words.

"Okay... Next question — why would she wanna do that? How do you know each other?" he repeated himself from earlier when you had been interrupted. That was an even longer, more complicated story. Sighing, you turned to face him, prepared to give him the basics at least, when the sound of police sirens caught your collective attention. Damn neighbors.

"I'll explain everything later – after I kill her... Don't follow me!" you warned, proceeding to dash towards the window, throwing up the sash and vaulting out into the alleyway below.

"Y/N!" you heard Victor yell after you as you made your way past the ensuing policemen filing into your apartment complex. There was no question how he'd feel about you – though as you spotted the famed detective Jim Gordon among them, you wondered what a casual conversation with him would be like. Knowing a run-in with him now would interfere greatly with your current mission however, you carried on in your path away from the crime scene. You were hardly expecting anyone else in his posse to pick you out of the darkness, though.

"Hey – stop!" said the officer as you rounded the corner, raising his gun to shoot at you. Yet his plans were swiftly quashed by a rogue shot to his side. The bullet's trajectory pointed you back from whence you came, and you were only just able to make out of the image of Victor – his always-dark clothes an aid to helping him blend in. Mimicking the prior crossing of his arms, you quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Didn't I tell you not to follow me?"

"You're welcome." he quipped, stepping over the incapacitated cop to join you.

You rolled your eyes. His unwavering persistence to get involved was starting to get a little annoying, if you were being honest. This was your fight, not his. Why did he even care so much? You knew you two were friendly, but never had you met a man—or anyone for that matter—that just did things for nothing in return.

When he pulled you out of sight of an oncoming group of policemen, Jim Gordon leading the charge, however, Victor made his intentions wholly clear at last.

"Look, I know you can handle yourself on your own just fine, and if after I'm done talking you still don't want my help, I completely understand... But I just wanted to let you know you don't have to go it alone all the time. I—" he hesitated, averting his gaze a moment before facing you once again. "I care about you, Y/N. These past few months have been some of the best in my life. If you got hurt, or killed and I didn't do everything I could to stop it, I'd never forgive myself." Victor confessed, his uncharacteristic vulnerability utterly  
mesmerizing, if not entirely unexpected. For a fleeting period of time, you were silent – lovestruck and without words to properly communicate the reciprocal feelings you had for the man in front of you.

You supposed that was why you hardly realized you had wrapped your arms around him until the comforting scent of worn leather and surprisingly enough, geraniums flooded your senses. Feeling Victor's embrace shortly after, you took a second to really appreciate it; the warmth and safety that came with the action a major plus. That, and it was the first hug you two had ever shared.

"I care about you, too, Victor." you said as you pulled away, the ache that followed the loss of his touch immediately apparent within you. "And all the time I've gotten to spend with you has been amazing for me too, but it's also made me realize something..."

"What?" he prompted.

"I don't wanna leave Gotham – or if we're being honest, I don't wanna leave you. I've been running almost my whole life, and I think all that time I was secretly waiting for something—someone—to stop for." you admitted, heart suddenly going a mile a minute. It'd felt like centuries had passed since you had experienced this sort of nervous, giddy energy coursing through your veins. Though you surmised depriving yourself of any true, emotional release for as long as you had would do that to a person.

"What are you saying?" inquired Victor, and you could sense the same intense apprehension emanating off of him. Part of you longed to take hold of him once more, to kiss him and forget about whatever anger-driven plans you had to seek revenge on the woman who happened to be the root of all your strife, but another knew that just wasn't possible. At least not until you faced her again. One last door to close on your history once and for all.

"I need to finish what I started the last time I saw her. It's the only way I know I'll be free at last." you asserted, and the bewildered, slightly disappointed reaction from Victor was easily detectable, despite how he tried to hide it. You didn't blame him – you'd be disappointed too, even negating how you knew it was not your intention to get his hopes up. "I'm going to need your help to do it, though." you finished, sharing in the weak, but genuine smile that came to his face. That was at least part of what he had wanted, right?

For what felt like the 100th time that night, police sirens blared – their insufferable noise advancing on your current location causing both of you to go on high-alert once again.

"Of course." Victor agreed, glancing over his shoulder to judge their distance away. "First bit of help? Let's get you the hell out of here!" he shouted above the sound, taking your hand and leading you on a path outside the cop's frame of vision.

Racing along after him to keep up, you were close to passing out by the time you reached what you had assumed to be his place. You had yet to visit him there, having only just gotten used to inviting him to yours. Part of it was basic precaution and though it wasn't easy to accept, the other was your initial reluctance to allow yourself to act on the feelings you had been harboring for Victor until this fateful night.

The exterior was seemingly nothing special at first glance, a brick wall with a long metal door in the center of it. Yet, on closer examination, you noticed something you were almost surprised you hadn't predicted prior to seeing it. While Victor searched for the key to said door, you peered at it – reaching out a hand to trace what appeared to be bullet-indents with your finger.

"Ah – from some punk who tried to take me out a few weeks ago. Sucker didn't realize it was bulletproof, shook his confidence real good..." Victor explained with a chuckle as he turned the key.

"Huh, you get visitors like that often?" you asked, finding the prospect strangely hilarious. Victor shook his head as he opened the door.

"Takes a lot to believe you're invincible – most of them are smart enough to know they're not." he replied, sounding oddly poetic. Just as you went to tease him about it, however, your attention was drawn to the yet-to-be-seen interior of his house. It all appeared to be 10 times bigger, and roomier than you expected – the ceiling higher than you could possibly reach without the help of an outrageously tall ladder, and a set of metal steps leading up to an overhead balcony space that looked curiously cozy.

Below it were multiple nooks of similar comfortability, beautiful, yet plush sofas placed strategically upon the smooth hardwood flooring – one in the rightmost corner underneath the balcony with books and reading lights to spare. Across from the main living room area was the kitchen – a small, but neatly managed space with marble countertops and wood cabinets.

"Victor, this is...wow – this is your place?" you could hardly believe what you were seeing. Did Falcone really pay him this well? It made you almost want to reconsider your stance on sole-alignments.

"Yep – well, it's Tasha and Ramone's place too." Victor added, the two women you had met briefly the night in the alleyway appearing by the balcony railing as if on cue shortly thereafter.

"Hey." greeted Tasha, Ramone offering a small wave of hello as she covered her mouth in a yawn. The reality of how early in the morning it was had almost entirely slipped your mind with all that had already happened.

"Hi." you said in return, unsure of what else to say. It wasn't often you heard stories of them in conversation with Victor, assuming most of them had to do with on-the-job situations.

"Oh, right – Y/N's gonna be staying with us for a few days while we figure some stuff out between her and someone from her past. Should've called ahead, sorry." he gave them the run-down, the both of them nodding in understanding.

"That's okay. You want me to show her to the guest room or should we leave you two alone for the night?" raised Ramone, a small, teasing smirk painting her lips. With just a glance at Victor's flushed and frozen expression – it seemed you were not the only one who could barely keep it together, catching the briefest glimpse of Tasha giving Ramone a light tap on the arm to stop her laughing.

Clearing his throat, Victor allowed himself a moment to regain his composure before speaking up again, "You alright to pick this up in the morning or..?"

"Yeah, that'd be fine." you answered curtly, feeling bad at seeing him so embarrassed, though you'd be lying if you didn't find a little humor in watching him squirm. Sharing a brief goodnight with him, you tried not to stare as Victor disappeared into a room you guessed was his bedroom down a hallway and to the left.

Although unsure as to how long you would actually be staying, you were already sure you were going to like it there, thanking the girls and bidding them goodnight as they filed away into their shared room. Unable to sleep, you busied yourself with sorting through the extensive record collection you assumed Ramone had yet to move, and in doing so, found memories of a simpler time springing to the forefront of your mind.

_'Where did you say this record shop was again?' asked Dante, chuckling as you dragged him along._

_'Just down this alleyway, c'mon!' you sang, wishing your legs could go as fast as your heartbeat did when excitement took hold. Though for most of your life, moments like these had been far and few in between. With Dante, however, it was as if nothing that happened before you met even mattered anymore. It was as if you had been given a second chance, a clean slate, a person to make up lost time with. And that, you did._

_However, as you came upon the inviting little store canopied in the shade of a beautiful, tall birch tree you had stood under countless times, admiring whichever new purchase you had made, everything around you vanished. The warmth of sun on your shoulders, the skip in your step, the comfort of Dante's hand in yours. All gone._

_You were alone._

_Or at least, before looking down at your blood-stained nightgown, you wished you were..._

Gasping for breath at the torment of your own wandering thoughts, you covered your eyes with your hands – fighting back tears. There had been enough of that for one night, you decided. No, sadness and grief were not what you needed now. Anger – the kind you'd felt earlier, or rather the day you'd first found out of her involvement, you could use.

The only reason she was still breathing at all was because of your history, and that alone. You had vowed not to kill her so long as she left you alone. After 3 years, it was evident she just couldn't help herself.

Creeping past Tasha and Ramone's room, you hesitated when you reached Victor's. You didn't want to worry him again, but you still weren't entirely keen on having him tag along. Maybe you could leave a note? No. At that point you knew it'd probably be the right thing to tell him face to face, if not easier than figuring out what to write. Raising your hand to knock lightly at his door, you were startled to hear his voice cut in before you had the chance.

"Trouble sleeping?" he was stood at the end of the hallway, leaning against a wall near the backdoor exit. Shaking off your initial fright, with a light smile you answered him,

"No, no – I was just going to see if you wanted to make those muffins we were talking about. I've heard they're especially good at 3 am." you joked, and he chuckled. "Yeah, yeah, a bit..." you confessed with a weak laugh, gaze dropping to the floor in genuine exhaustion. It wasn't until you met his eyes once more that you saw the makings of an idea behind them, and for a second wondered if he wanted you to ask him what it was. Swiftly though, he spoke up – telling you he had 'just the thing,' for you, and to follow him. Although tempted to crack a joke about having already 'tried everything,' you did as he requested, possibly against your better judgment.

When he led you out to a ladder that went up to the top of the roof, your worries were calmed in an instant – your skepticism however—

"Oh c'mon, I swear it's worth it – don't you trust me?" pleaded Victor, even going so far as to give you his best puppy dog eyes. Rolling your eyes with a tired, but amused smile – you finally agreed.

"What's so special about this place again?" you questioned once you had reached the top, stepping onto the seemingly barren space.

Turning to face you, Victor just smiled and took your hand, guiding you to the edge of the rooftop where, upon your arrival there – a view of the cityscape lit up with thousands of twinkling neon lights shone, illuminating the buildings and cars all the way across Gotham.

"I come up here whenever I can't sleep – it's oddly soothing..." said the dark-eyed man next to you, and you were inclined to believe him – momentarily forgetting your hands were still interlocked as you marveled at the image before you. Breaking from your trance, you looked down at them, that same earlier warmth from him returning to make you melt inside.

As soon as he noticed your stare, however, he released his hold, much to your disappointment.

"Sorry." Victor quickly apologized, offering you a laugh of obvious embarrassment as he scratched the back of his neck and looked away.

"No, don't apologize – I liked it." you assured him, rejoining your hands and turning to face him head-on. "I like you, Victor. A lot. It's a little scary how much, honestly..." you revealed, toying with his fingers in your nervousness.

"That a bad thing?" he posed, prompting you to lock eyes once again. Looking at them then, you couldn't believe how beautiful they were up-close, dark and enigmatic – in any other scenario, you'd be more than eager to lose yourself in them, but not now. You were done holding out on him.

"No, I just – I need you to know I want to be with you, and what I said earlier... Well, it wasn't the whole truth." you took a breath, bracing yourself for the impact your next words were sure to have. "The reason I pushed you away – the reason I push every guy I like away is because I'm afraid of losing them–you–like I... Like I—"

"'Like you lost your husband?'" Victor completed for you, frowning at the clear struggle it was for you to get the words out.

"Yeah – that..." you confirmed, annoyed and mortified by your inability to say it on your own – even 8 years later. Being kind to yourself had never been easy for you. Maybe that was part of why it was so hard. "God, I'm sorry, Victor – I really am. I've been such a mess tonight, and you've been so good to me. You always are." you thanked him, though by the way he wrapped your hand in both of his, you sensed he felt this show of gratitude was unnecessary.

"You're not a mess." Victor insisted kindly. "And there's no reason to say sorry – you are the coolest, most beautiful person I have ever met. The fact that you chose to confide in me is an honor unto itself, honestly." he posited, causing a flattered laugh to tumble from your lips. It wasn't hard to gather he thought you were good-looking, but actually hearing him say it was something else entirely.

"Well, you make it pretty easy. Maybe it's a sign my taste in men has significantly dipped in recent years, but the ones I usually meet never seem very interested in taking things slow... Plus they've never been quite as dashing as you are." you complimented, an unconscious instinct to cup the side of his face with your hand leading you both to lean in closer, and eventually lock lips.

The feeling was indescribable as you began to move in sync, not stopping to think about the potential aftermath of it. Though you'd had your reasons not to act on it, the desire to be as close as you were right now had always been there. But there was no more need for any of that – you would have Victor, regardless of how long that'd turn out to be.

Breaking apart briefly for air, and to loop your arms around his neck, the pooling heat in your core only increased when you felt his still-hardening cock press up against you as he peppered kisses down down yours. Whining in pleasure, you had only just begun to grind your hips against his when what appeared to be the sound of a tin can being kicked over hit your ears and the faintest noise of a sharp curse not coming from either of you could be heard close by.

"The hell was that?" you asked yourself aloud – squinting in the darkness for any sign of whoever was cause for the ruckus thereafter. Victor did not seem to be distracted by this, continuing his work on your neck, the vibrations caused by an enraptured moan into your skin capturing your attention once more. "Victor..." you protested gently, certainly still enjoying yourself, though the question of who it could've been persisted in your mind.

The Lady and her cronies could be crossed off the possible list – none of them that you could remember had ever been known to be agile enough to scale the side of a building so high up, nor did you believe they had the drive to, anyway. They'd do a lot for a quick buck, but the woman you knew had always had a very particular way of posing demands. 'Do it my way or not at all,' she would often say. A method of weeding out the unmotivated, she claimed, though by just a glance at her some of followers, it was not as effective as she hoped it to be.

"Something wrong?" Victor asked when he finally pulled away to look down at you, a dreamy expression on his face. Goddamn it, he was cute. Scolding yourself with a shake of your head – you felt bad for having possibly ruined the mood.

"No, no – just thought I heard something..." you said, feeling a little silly at that point.

"Really? Where? I'll go check it out—"

"Oh no, that's alright – it was probably just a cat." you dismissed his offer, your longing to finish what you'd started overriding whatever concern that had incidentally interrupted you two. Taking his hand once again, you smiled seductively, all the many ways you wanted to be with him instantly rushing back. Looking back at you, it seemed the same had occurred for Victor, as you purred, "C'mon, I think it's time you showed me your bedroom."

"As a matter of fact, I think it is." he agreed, pulling you into another passionate kiss...


	7. Hold Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Two updates in the same week — wild, I know lmao; anyways though — big warning for this chapter — this is basically pure smut. So, if you're not into that — feel free to skip this one, as you don't need to read it to understand the rest of the story! :) For those of you who are into this kinda stuff however, enjoy ;)

Victor's hands – wonders that they were, were all over you – teasing and prodding the most sensitive parts of your body. Until now you had only dreamed of what that would feel like, and now that it was actually happening, you could hardly think. Everything around you seemed to be going a million miles an hour – leaving only you two in the middle of it all.

Kissing him feverishly, you groaned when he broke away to find purchase on your neck, lifting your leg to bring you closer, the feeling of his hard cock against your throbbing core indescribable.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this..." he muttered, making you gasp when his teeth lightly grazed your skin.

"Well, that makes two of us." you said with a grin, wrapping your legs around his waist – allowing him an easier time carrying you to his bed.

"Oh, I know, baby." the hitman purred in your ear as he hovered over you – going first for the buttons on your blouse as he continued at a low volume, "I came over to surprise you one day but then I saw you through your window – touching yourself... You looked so fucking hot." he confessed, bringing his hand down to rest on your bare thigh under your skirt, rubbing circles onto it inches from where you desired that the most. Two could play at that game.

"Hm, did you? And what about the part where I moaned out your name? Did you enjoy watching me get off to just the thought of you, _Victor_?" you emphasized, earning a grunt of surprise when you cupped him in your hand. Giving him a good squeeze, you smirked as he let out a strained hiss. Not bothering to resume the slow process of unbuttoning your top, you felt a sense of thrill run through you when he tore open the fabric without a second thought.

The skirt you wore was no exception to this either, Victor practically ripping it off you and tossing it over his shoulder to land on the floor. Now left  
in only your underwear, you sat up slightly to unhook your bra, discarding it in the same way before turning your attention onto him. When at last he was finally left in only his boxers, your mental picture of him was again toppled completely, his body even more glorious than you could've imagined.

"Like what you see?" Victor then teased when he noticed you staring.

"What do you think?" you quipped, unable to hold back a smile as he leaned down to kiss you with a cocky smirk. Pulling away, you were beyond ready when he tugged your panties to the side and plunged a finger into your pooling heat. Sucking in a sharp breath, the urge to arch your back was impossible to fight – especially when he started pumping said digit in and out at a rapid pace or when he added another.

"That feel good, baby?" asked Victor, voice husky and full of want at the many unabashed sounds falling from your mouth. It was important to you that your partners knew just how good they were making you feel.

"Yes, Victor – _fuck_..." you swore as he abruptly removed his fingers from within you and dived down to lick a painfully slow stripe up your soaking-wet cunt. Moaning, your hands flew to grip the covers beneath you as he went to work lapping relentlessly at your dripping sex, using his thumb to rub quick circles into your clit. With this added stimulus, it wasn't long until you were crying out his name just as you had done when it was only you and your fingers.

Not giving yourself even a second to catch your breath, you started on returning the favor – flipping Victor on his back so your positions were reversed. Beginning by kissing down his chest until you reached his still clothed prick, you dabbled in teasing him some more, taking your sweet time in removing his boxers.

"There's no need to be cruel, Y/N..." the assassin whined impatiently at this action, or rather lack thereof.

"Sorry, baby – it was far too tempting." you retorted, then yanking the fabric down fast and without warning. Hearing a grunt escape him that you could tell was unintentional only fueled your desire to hear more from him, taking his cock in your mouth seconds later. Extended, deep, groans and curses then followed, ceasing only when you pulled back after a minute of bobbing your head up and down.

"Jesus, you're good at that." Victor breathed out as you came to face him once again. Smiling down at him, you lowered your head to give him a kiss, his strong hands coming up to gently cup your face. You loved the sound of his voice – especially when it softened slightly around you. For once, you didn't have any witty remarks at hand, nothing to hide your true feelings of adoration for him, just the overwhelming ache to be as close to him as possible. "Oh — protection, one sec." he told you, breaking from your touch momentarily to grab a condom from his nightstand drawer.

And after allowing him a moment to put it on, finally you were, kissing him once more before slowly sinking down onto him – your collective whimpers and sighs of relief mingling together as you felt one another at last. Moving after a brief lull of momentary bliss, you set a slow, steady pace at first – wanting to enjoy every possible second of heaven on earth you gave each other. You wondered fleetingly if Victor had ever taken this approach in other encounters such as this, but forgot it easily – knowing it didn't matter anyway. He was with you now, only you.

"God, Victor, you're so fucking good." you panted as you sped up, gripping his shoulders and him, your waist, bucking his hips up into you at an alarming rate. Meeting his thrusts equally, you reveled in the face he made when he eventually came – moaning loudly as he did.

Watching as he came down from his high, you shared in the contented expression that painted his face. Job well done, you supposed. Planting a quick peck on his cheek before climbing off of him to go clean yourself up, you laughed when unsurprisingly, his ever-invigorated image appeared in the mirror behind you.

As his lips returned to your neck, you doubted there was any point in washing up now anyway...

~

Two additional rounds later, you lay there beside Victor, admiring the smooth feel of his toned chest against your fingers and lightly tracing the indents of the various scars scattered across his warm skin. It was unusually calming, for what they represented. His eyes were shut, a blissful smile plastered on his face – though you could tell he wasn't sleeping. When was the last time either of you had been in such an intimate position with another person? You couldn't say. But for however long it would last, you were determined to cherish every minute of it.

"You know it's gonna be real annoying when you run out of space on your chest." you mused suddenly after a period of comfortable silence. Sitting up slightly, Victor chuckled, opening his eyes just a peep to look at you.

"And why's that?" he asked, intrigued by this notion. Shifting to rest your chin on your hands, you continued on in your train of thought,

"Because then you'll have to start marking your back, and I imagine that won't be an easy thing to do – especially without any help."

Settling back into his original place on the bed, Victor snickered at the seriousness of your tone. Most other people he'd been with previously, while possibly giving a passing comment on his scars, had never had as much to say about them as you clearly did.

"Guess I'll just have to get someone to help me when the time comes, then." he remarked, relishing in the minor look of surprise that came to your face at his implication.

"Guess you will." you agreed, trying to act as if you hadn't noticed it at all. Not that you really minded. The affection you held for one another was out in the open now, anyway. Still, you hesitated to show it – at least not directly.

There was a moment, amongst an array of others similar to it where you had been walking somewhere together and just as if you were in 8th grade again, you had brushed hands accidentally. Choosing to disregard it, the two of you had walked on, but for the rest of the day, the desire to hold his hand had refused to leave you. You wondered if Victor had felt the same way. If he had even realized what had happened in the first place, he was great at acting like he hadn't. He could be rather aloof in that way. Though then again, you supposed you could be too.

"What're you thinking about?" the sound of his smooth, slightly drowsy voice reminded you of your current location and shook you from your wonderings. Shaking your head at the oddly juvenile dilemma you'd been mulling over, you laughed softly, deciding it was far too small to even mention.

"Nothing, I just..." you trailed off, now a far bigger request of intimacy entering your thoughts. Laying down next to him, your heart beat in your throat as you cleared it a bit to speak, "I was wondering if you could maybe... hold me?"

For a minute, the words hung unanswered in the cool air of his bedroom, Victor's eyes wide, and full of shock at this – prompting you to immediately begin kicking yourself internally. How could you think such a question would be good to ask him? This was a hookup, nothing less, nothing more. Perhaps the whole idea of your shared feelings for each other had been too. Perhaps he didn't really mean all he said earlier...

Yet, as you stumbled your way through a less than graceful apology and went to turn your back to him for the rest of the night, you were met with an overwhelming rush of joy and surprise at his sudden embrace. He was warm, more so than you imagined people expected him to be. Not just physically, but in many other facets as well. A side only you got to see, but a part of him nonetheless.

"Don't apologize." he cooed gently, pressing a kiss atop your head, causing you to melt further into his touch. Never in a million years did you think you could experience the same level of safety and security as you had all those years ago. Before all the lying, the disappearing, the killing... When you had hardly a care in the world, when you last felt entirely and wholly complete.

Eyes screwed shut, you welcomed the feeling, escaping into it and hoping Victor wouldn't ask about the tears that were surely staining the skin of his chest by then. To your relief, he didn't, though you couldn't be one-hundred percent certain as you drifted slowly to sleep in his arms, savoring every last moment of peace you had with him...


	8. Who'd Have Known

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry this one's kinda short — I really wanted to post something & was having trouble getting my original chapter idea right, so here we are lol... Anyway, hope you enjoy and I promise to be back with follow up soon! Happy reading! 
> 
> (unedited)
> 
> (p.s. thanks for 500+ hits!! really means a lot:))

You had always hated the morning after. 

For a while, you had taken to blaming it on the sneaking out and or the hangovers that often came with them — hell, even the excruciating silence was a reoccurring factor. Yet, as you woke that next day, in a notably quiet room — Victor's arms still wrapped securely around you, the true reason became clear all at once. 

You hated waking up alone. 

Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you watched in a strange sort of fascination as Victor shifted to lie on his back. Never could you have imagined this was where you'd be when you first stepped foot in Gotham. Here was thee Victor Zsasz, one of, if not the most dangerous men in the city — in a deep, peaceful sleep next to you. Who'd have known... 

Resisting the urge to trace your fingers over the skin of his strong arms, though you hated to leave him, opted to slink out of bed to get ready for the day ahead. There was still so much to be done. This was easier than you thought as Victor didn't even stir, making you conclude your joint activities from the night before had really managed to tucker him out. 

Retrieving your clothes from the floor, you went to the bathroom to get dressed and freshen up a bit. Upon putting on your overcoat and stuffing your hands in its pockets, however, you were reminded of a familiar object you'd left in there. Pulling out the small, velvet box, you hesitated to open it, staring it down as if it were a new enemy of yours. In many ways, since Dante's death, it had become just that. 

For a year after the horrific event that had occurred, the ring hardly ever left your finger, finding it a comfort to be able to look down and see it whenever you thought of him. That didn't last long, of course, you nearly shattering the gemstone on it after hurling it across the room in a fit of despair. Sometimes being reminded of people you'd lost felt more like a burden, than a comfort. 

Following that incident, you had settled for only wearing it when you felt like it, keeping it hidden in its case when you didn't. Carrying it around on your person all the time just wasn't a good alternative, either. What if someone stole it off you after they killed you? Turning up to whatever otherworldly plain of existence you'd meet Dante in again  without  it seemed far too embarrassing, even in all its unlikelihood. 

Although as of late, you hadn't had the desire to take it out of its box, let alone put it on. There was a part of you that wanted to say you didn't know why, or that it was just too hard right now, but another knew better. It was, for better or worse, that you had begun to miss Dante less and less. Day-to-day, at least. Whether this was due to the prospect of closing the door on his murder forever or Victor's company and later support, you were unsure. All those years ago, just the idea that you could ever even begin to move on would've shaken you. 

Perhaps it was a remnant of your admittedly childish concept of love in those days or getting married so young, but forming a connection like the one you'd had with Dante seemed impossible, for a long time. Being with Victor—though you didn't want to jinx it—had definitely changed that. Still, his memory was important to you. How to preserve it had been an enduring question in your mind. 

There was little more than the ring that you had left to remember him by. All pictures and videos you'd taken together had been destroyed upon  _her_ insistence or simply lost to time. That was another thing you would never forgive her for. Just thinking about it made your blood boil. Looking down at the box, in that moment you felt yourself making a promise after everything was said and done to find a safe, meaningful place for what laid inside it. Somewhere you could properly say goodbye. 

Happy with this plan, you went to look it over one last time, popping the lid up with your thumb only to reveal it was no longer there... 

"That  _bitch_. " 


End file.
